The Princedom of Ithilien
by Selene7
Summary: Malachi, a scribe to Lord Faramir of Ithilien, is given a task that seems well beyond his capabilities. Will he complete the task set to him or is Ithilien doomed?
1. Default Chapter

_Lord of the Rings is the sole property of Tolkien Enterprises. I have only used his world for personal pleasure, not monetary gain. All characters and places are property of Tolkien unless you've not heard of them before._

**G**reetings Friend!

**M**y name is Malachi and I am scribe of Ithilien, realm of the gallant Prince Faramir and the beautiful Lady Éowyn.

**R**ecently my liege happened upon the idea to record our histories, much as they do in Minas Tirith. Our land has grown beautiful once more and all who live here prosper under Faramir's reign. It is therefore, with great honor that I take up my quill and write for him the words of the hearts, minds and souls of Ithilien…

**T**he Lady Éowyn approached me today baring the grave news that a company of our best soldiers were attacked a few moons ago on the road to Minas Tirith. Eithelfar, our Captain here, says that they were on route to Minas Tirith to aid in the repairing of that great city. No word as to their whereabouts has been heard and the fellow who delivered the terrible news lies unconscious in our healing house. Imrain, on of the training healers there, believes he may not awaken to finish his tale. My liege is most anxious at this news and will see none but his beloved wife.

**Y**ours in good faith,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	2. Chapter One

**G**reetings Friend,

**P**rince Faramir has called for me to attend a meeting in the antechamber of his household. The Lady Éowyn, Captain Eithelfar, Madame Bishaw, the Head Healer, and Imrain will be attending also. The following text is a faithful narrative of the said meeting;

**B**y the time that I arrived both Healers were seated in the antechamber. I feel it is important here to mention the state both were in. Madame Bishaw was her usual stoic self; however the unkempt state of her hair betrayed the fact that she too was affected greatly by the recent events. Never has she been seen without every strand of grey hair in its place. Her hands, resting in their customary position in her lap, were white with the tension of clasping them together too tightly.  
**I**mrain was a little more worn it seemed. For insofar as looking after her appearance goes she seemed to have neglected it. Her own hair, normally held up in the strict bun required of our healers, hung loosely and unbrushed around her shoulders and her face seemed drawn; her skin far too pale to be healthy. From all this I believe I gleaned the fact that something serious is afoot; of which I was to now learn.  
**Q**uite unlike his normal behavior, Eithelfar was late and when he did arrive he said not a word before sitting down. I am glad of the fact he managed a stiff bow to our Liege and Lady for the dangerous glint in Faramir's eye was not one to be pushed to far.  
"**I **am gladden to see you all here, but fear what each of you know of separately will dampen the mood considerably. You should all be aware now of the news that one of our patrols has gone missing and if what our brave soldier who returned said is true then we can only presume they are all dead. This is sad news indeed but I am sure you, Madame Bishaw can shed more light on the matter at hand can you not?" Prince Faramir asked quietly, his eyes ever drifting to those of the White Lady's, seeking support I presume.  
**P**lacing her cup down in her lap Madame Bishaw clasped her hands around the hot sides, wincing slightly as the heat pierced her gloved hands.  
"**L**adies, gentlemen, my colleague and I bring the happy news that our soldier friend has awoken from his unconscious state and was, after a considerable helping of my Cornmeal soup I might add, able to give us a clearer report on what happened to him and his company. Imrain here was the young woman who heard this report and it is her wish to retell it to you all."

"**H**andol said that they were happened upon late at night, when the moon had disappeared from the sky for a time. They were not aware of the assailants approach until the anguish cries of their Sergeant reached their ears and rushing to his tent they found him… He, he was pinned to his desk my liege, still living as he tried to remove his own weapon from his stomach. There was blood everywhere and, and Handol says that even his Sergeant's hunting dogs had been slaughtered, torn bloodily apart and thrown across the tent. There was no sign of the assailants at this time and it was too Handol that the Sergeant gave his final orders before dying.  
   "**R**eturn my friend… tell him… tell our liege. He… he must know… they have… come."  
"**W**ithout another word Handol raced from the tent to see the camp in uproar, the shouts, cries and screams rang out around him as he stumbled to where he had left his own meager belongings. In his heart he desired to remain, to fight with his comrades in what appeared to be their great and final stand in battle but his mind, cool and calculating as it had always been urged him onwards. Crashing through the undergrowth he made for a Ranger-track that he knew of to bring him Henneth Annún.  
"**H**owever he was overrun by a small host of those who had attacked their camp so ruthlessly and was soon in a battle of his own not knowing whether to fight and die or flee and deliver a strange message he failed to decipher. His thoughts, as stilted as they were during battle, strayed to his Sergeant lying in his tent his body battered and beaten, his blood staining the ground like dark wine. With a great roar he through one of his attackers from his back and thundered off, stumbling as each arrow sunk into the armor upon his back. After many hours those chasing him had slowly drifted away, yet pushed by fear Handol ran on. Weeping openly with both the pain in his body and the pain in his heart, never would he forget the courage in his Sergeant's face as he breathed his last.  
"**E**ventually he heard a scream behind him and stopped. Through the trees come the sound of voices, ones that were not like those of their assailants which seemed to screech and roar all at the same time. He turned to see men, dressed in our land's uniform, searching through the trees. Not knowing for what they searched he breathed deeply of the air and spoke once before lapsing into dark forgetfulness.  
   "**O**ver… here…"  
"**T**his is all he remembers, although you all know of the journey back here to Emyn Arnen, which was as peaceful as one would expect of a child's walk through an orchard. In direct contrast to what Handol had faced. During moments of brief wakefulness he managed to speak of the attack but it was not until last night that we learnt of his Sergeant's final words. I hope it bears some meaning to you my liege for I failed to decipher it myself."  
**S**ettling back down in her seat after reciting such a difficult account Imrain closed her eyes. A strange event it was indeed when Our Lady took the healer's hand in her own and held it tight in comfort. I was unable to ponder this for long before Prince Faramir spoke.  
"**I**ndeed I know of what he speaks, though in all honesty I know very little. There name alone was spoken to me and I brushed it aside, in great folly it would seem." Rough hands massaged his temple as our liege collected his thoughts, "They are the Dúfaroth, the Night Hunters. Their name is spoken in childhood tales alone nowadays and is little more than a legend to our people. To my knowledge only one believed they truly exist and I fear he may have died since I spoke with him. Malachi, I have brought you hear because I believe you may know something of these children's tales that could aid us."

**I **must admit these words surprised me for I felt it was my duty to record their words, not to provide information, although this new development pleased me greatly.  
"**I **fear my knowledge of the Dúfaroth is limited my liege, but I can learn of more if you desire it. There are many books in our library…"  
"**N**o my friend, I exhausted that resource myself last night and no you cannot visit the library of Minas Tirith, I am recalling all soldiers to Emyn Arnen. In fact…" Closing his eyes Prince Faramir folded his arms across his chest defensively as Captain Eithelfar shook his head, his eyes speaking plainly that he disagreed with his Lord's actions. "I am requesting, no ordering, all our peoples to come to our city. Many have family here they can lodge with and failing that there is the Halls and Theatres for them to bed down in. Once all are in only our soldiers will be allowed outside the city walls, and then only during the day. I will not have any of our people harmed unnecessarily Captain. I have heard your arguments on this matter and they need not be repeated here."  
"**S**ire you underestimate our army's capabilities; you are only serving to make the soldiers feel worthless. You yourself know how dangerous that can be." Standing, Captain Eithelfar moved to stand before Prince Faramir. His face was full of anger and his hands shook with the effort to restrain himself.  
"**C**aptain please! We do not need this now, this is no conventional enemy. Nor will this be a conventional war. Yes my friends, we are facing war against the Dúfaroth… one that I fear may last longer than we can contend with alone unless we learn more of them. Your words Malachi, when you told how little you know of these creatures, I will admit, made our situation direr. For there is none in these parts who would know more of them than what the children's tales can tell us."  
**T**hese words, spoken with such resignation and sadness, jolted all who were present out of their little daydreams and suffice to say the seriousness of our quandary has been shown fully to us. It was, therefore, with great difficulty that I spoke the following words.  
"**M**y liege, none here fail now to see the dangers we face and what I propose to you now should be heard. Our entire peoples are at risk as we are now, with little knowledge of how to fight these Dúfaroth. We must learn more of them. You spoke earlier of a man, one who knows of these creatures. If you would have me I wish to journey and learn from him all that I may. Only thusly will our situation be viewed in a better light. The life of one scribe is naught in comparison to an entire state."

"**Y**ou know I cannot expect this of you Malachi, I could not ask this of you either." Prince Faramir said quietly.  
"**N**or would I expect you to, but I give myself freely. Fully knowing what dangers walk the road before me." I answered.  
"**D**o you? Do you truly Malachi? You speak with great bravery and valor, and yet you have never raised arms in anger or combat." The White Lady broke in, her voice but a whisper, hanging still in the air.  
"**I **will accompany him on this task if it is given to him Lady Éowyn, I will no longer be your highest ranking soldier should our people be recalled so will not be needed." Captain Eithelfar offered.  
"**S**hould they be recalled? Captain, please stop this nonsense and take my word in this. You know my feelings and I know of yours. I respect them believe me but I feel they are wrong. Like your words regarding your usefulness." Prince Faramir cried.  
"**S**poken like a true Captain as always Faramir, " Captain Eithelfar said warmly, his eyes dancing. "But you know as well as I do that my aid here will be naught compared to how I could help outside. Whether you grant permission or not, I will accompany Malachi on his task."  
"**A**nd I would offer my aid as well my liege, healers will be needed here no doubt but many of our people returning to the city will be healers, these two will be of no use to us if they were to injure themselves." Imrain stated calmly, her eyes still fixed on her lap.  
"**Y**ou are outnumbered it would seem beloved, great and brave people do you have in your care. Ones that would risk their lives for others in a task that may not bear any fruit. But a group of three? And a scribe, a trainee healer and a warrior who has not seen battle in many moons at that? Were you to grant their wish I hope that you give them greater aid in their task?" Lady Éowyn asked.  
"**T**he lives of my people I value highly and do not wish to throw them away foolishly. But I see by your eyes that all of you are determined to go through with this. Captain Eithelfar? Are there any from your company you would wish to join you?" Prince Faramir finally acceded.

"**I**f I could have but three of Handol's class I would be happy. You know therefore that I am going to request the aid of Undew, Fréa and Kleo do you not?"  
"Kleo? I will assent to Undew and Fréa gladly for such a cause but Kleo?" Our liege said angrily.  
"**A**nd why is that Faramir? Because you do not believe in a woman's abilities in such a task? You've never truly believed a woman can fight and hold her own have you? Captain? You may have those you have chosen, and my sword. I am still a Shieldmaiden of Rohan in my heart and I would feel worthless sitting at home while you search for this man." The White Lady said, her eyes drifting to the open window where the sun shone down, oblivious to the goings on below.  
"**É**owyn no, I cannot allow this. Your safety is important to me, I love you dearly and would not wish to see you hurt." Faramir protested in dismay.  
"**A**nd you would see that my heart, were this task to fail. I know not why but I feel my aid will be required on this journey, whether you wish it or not. It is settled then. We set out at dawn tomorrow. Captain? Ensure your people are well informed on what they face and make sure their armor and weapons are in top shape. I do not want slackness on this journey. Imrain? Spend your night with Madame Bishaw, you are still a trainee and there is much you must learn in a short time. Malachi? If you would organize for supplies please?" Lady Éowyn ordered before retiring from the room. "I will see you all at dawn, friends."  
**S**uffice to say we all sat there in stunned silence before Madame Bishaw bustled Imrain out the door as well, chattering in her quaint voice about all the healing plants we were likely to happen across on our journey and how to recognize them. Bowing to Prince Faramir, Captain Eithelfar left the room shortly after at a brisk pace, shouting orders for the triad to be at the Headquarters in half an hour.  
**B**y the time I left, after organizing my notes, Faramir was still sitting in his seat. If I were not mistaken he had paled even further and a solitary tear rolled down his cheek…

Yours in good faith,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	3. Chapter Two

**G**reetings Friend,

**I** fear Prince Faramir did not see us off on our journey, preferring to stay in his room at home. Lady Éowyn seemed pale as she joined us and her eyes red. All of us realise that she is a warrior-maiden at heart, none the least Our Liege, but I feel he does not like this side to his beloved wife. I can see jealously does not factor into this but somehow I know, deep down that Our Liege wishes he might have had the opportunity, nay the choice to join us. Such is fate and we must take the hand dealt to us no matter how much it hurts us at the time. I for one wish I were not on this quest for I feel it is ill-fated and we shall learn more about ourselves than we ever wished to know.  
**C**aptain Eithelfar's triad arrived shortly after myself and Imrain, all three suited up as though facing battle already. Imrain made what I saw as the rather snide remark that their armor would be little aid against the Dúfaroth should we meet with them. Undew and Fréa seemed mildly insulted at her words of course but Kleo; the warrior-maiden seemed to fairly bristle with anger. The very air seemed electric as healer and warrior stood face to face; neither giving any quarter. I give Imrain credit in that not once did she quaver from her stance although her body shook with fear and I myself wonder what would have happened if the Lady Éowyn had not arrived at that moment. Their actions towards each other since have proven that there is a great deal of enmity between the pair; though the rest of us fail to understand what. Fréa is of the belief that Kleo may feel threatened by Imrain but I cannot see why this would be so… there is little Imrain has to offer that Kleo could ever desire. This facet of human behavior still puzzles me and I think I may keep an eye on their relationship from now one; merely for research purposes of course.

**U**pon reading through what I have written previously it has occurred to me that little has been spoken of my companions appearances. Little need be spoken of the Lady Éowyn of course because many paintings and statues in her likeness can be found around our great city but the others I cannot say the same for. The Captain of course is generally well known amongst the other soldiers, for his bumbling ways usually but many do not recognize him in the street. He is a man of bearish stature, with limp black hair and pale skin reminiscent of one who spends a great deal of too much indoors rather than out; although his large build can be accredited to the vigorous training he puts himself through in an attempt to prove to Our Liege that he is indeed worthy of his position.

**H**ealer Imrain is beautiful indeed, with long orange hair hanging in ringlets down her back and framing her small, round face. She shows the vigor of youth in all that she does and her body moves with a fluidity rarely seen in one who is no longer a care-free child… or a dancer…

**T**he next lady of our group is Kleo, and is in direct opposition to the fair Imrain. Her hair is raven black and her skin tanned so darkly that it appears to have, almost, the olive skinned appearance characteristic of the Rohirrim. Her movements are indeed fluid but they are carried only into her fighting techniques where is found her true power.

**U**ndew, for all appearances, could be Kleo's own father but as he denies it firmly all must take his word on it. His hair shows signs of graying and his skin has many wrinkles, which he refers to as laughter lines, yet his eyes show a kind of youthfulness that is appealing.

**F**rea looks neither like Undew or Kleo besides the same skill in battle when each perform almost identically and in tune with the others. His hair is short, curly and brown in hue and his face is lined with small laughter lines, belying his youth. His blue eyes always appear to be laughing and it is obvious he is very much a simpleton, but Undew and Kleo both love him dearly and would not see him harmed.

**T**he last of our group is myself and very little need be spoken of such things as I am merely the scribe for all that we may learn. My appearance is rather plain, with sandy brown hair and a pale complexion from spending too much time in the shade…

**A**hh, we are leaving now my friend. When I find the time I will write once more and tell you of our progress.

**Y**ours in good faith,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	4. Chapter Three

**G**reetings Friends,

**I**t has been many days since we left the safe harbor of the city and none knew how cruel the storm we traveled into would be. Needless to say we have been besieged by forces greater than any of us should have ever faced, although Lady Éowyn faced them each time her eyes glinting with disgust and malice combined. It is indeed a frightening sight to see your leading lady behave so viciously; almost like a mother wolf protecting her cubs from strangers. This is a sight I've not seen from her before and I admit it only serves to make me even prouder to serve her faithfully even when the path of violence sickens me.

**S**ome days it seems as though we are still walking through night, in a darkened state of mind and caring little where we are headed or what we are doing. This morning Fréa pulled me aside and kindly told me that I was neglecting my duties. The plain, open light of his face was more rebuking than his words were and I felt severely chastised for having forgotten the task entrusted to me. No one seemed to notice, however, when I requested we make camp early so as to make use of the fading light. The others are out now, searching for dry wood to build a fire, giving me a chance to write in peace.

**L**ike our moods the weather is dreary, raining almost constantly with the sun barely shining through the low, dark clouds suspended from invisible threads above us. Even Imrain's desperate plea to Elbereth Gilthoniel aided us not. Even the leaves upon the trees hang limply, laden as they are with the heavy drops of water. No light glistens from them.

**I**t is therefore, not surprising that the murmured curses of my companions reach my ears as they try and find dry wood amongst this wet, cold world we find ourselves in. I am grateful at least to have somewhere dry to sleep tonight but do wish, oh do I wish, for a warm fire to dry my clothes and thaw my frozen bones. Still, one cannot expect too much these days; there seems little good left as it is.

**T**he only proof that the Dúfaroth existed previously was in Handol's claim. I must admit to bearing some disbelief for awhile and I know that the good Captain was in complete skepticism. I would be lying therefore to say that I am glad the lad was proved right…

**T**wo nights ago we come upon what appeared to be a group of them, although it could quite easily have been only on. The lights played tricks on our eyes. Their appearance seemed to bear little aggression or danger and they appeared to be merely shadows, as though they were without their solid counter-parts. The horrid glow that emitted from where their faces should have been was proof to their deadliness. A sickly red in color it caste tricksy lights over the small clearing we stood in, distorting even the trees surrounding us.

I admit that even I stood rooted to the spot, struck dumb in horror. They didn't seem to notice us, or at least ignored us until Undew drew his blade. The glint of metal drove them into a frenzy and I swear the howls and screams were probably heard for miles around as they rushed towards us. We stood their for what seemed like eternity, unable to move as they come towards us. But the horrible images painted by Handol leaked into our numbed minds and we soon turned tail and fled. We must have looked like lambs scared of their own shadow if someone had seen us. I have never known fear like that in my life…

**Y**ours in good faith,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	5. Chapter Four

**G**reetings Friends,

**I** am terribly sorry for ending my last entry on such a note. An unfinished one at that. Yet, you know, for once I felt as though there was nothing I could say. No words that could ever paint a picture for you, dear reader, that would show what we all felt, how utterly terrified and helpless we felt. Handol's terror has become our own, though for us there is no hope. Handol always bore the hope that he would reach safety. It was that which made him soldier on, kept his legs from falling beneath him. Prevented him from collapsing in a sobbing mess.

**F**or us? What was there for us to hope for? I know, for myself, it was the knowledge that many wouldn't survive if we had given up then and there but for the others I cannot speak of… Each seem to be taking it differently. Fréa has spoken barely one word since, he walks as though he is in a daze but the glances he gives the others unnerves me. Simple, pleasant Fréa? One would not deem such was possible from him but it is there; and it is only I who seems to notice it. Perhaps because the others are lost in their own thoughts.

**T**he ladies of our small group seem affected the most and they rarely leave each other's side. Even the animosity between Kleo and Imrain seems dulled of late; as though the knife each bore for the other was blunted by some unseen force. Perhaps it is Our Lady's influence that makes them behave so for certainly all three seem to draw a comfort from each other, as though they each have a common interest of a sudden.

**T**he Captain and Undew do not rest. I fear there is little either could do should we be attacked again and yet they both insist upon keeping watch. Neither will listen to reason when Imrain tries to tell them that what we all need is rest should we need to run again. When we need to run again. It is inescapable of course; the crawling way in which we have lived our last few weeks. Running, hiding, skulking. A never-ending circle. And we still seem no closer to what we seek. There seems to be nothing in this world that would aid us.

We have reached the borders of Ithilien and before us stretches great expanses of green fields; in the distance bright blue shimmers in the morning light. I sit here now, still trembling even as the sun's warmth thaws my body. None care for the food Kleo prepared and eat only because we know it is necessary. The beauty of what lies before us seems lost or like a dream from which to wake would only bring us back to a dark, cruel world full of endless torment.

Wait… Fréa has espied something. All around me the others are destroying all signs of our makeshift camp and preparing to fight or fly. Should we fear this, this, thing? It seems like naught I have ever seen in my life and yet I feel I should not pass judgment yet, it is still too far away. The Captain and Lady Éowyn have already begun to argue on our next course of action but at the pace the creature is moving I think that choice has already been stolen from us.

Yours in good faith,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	6. Chapter Five

**G**reetings Friends,

**B**y Eru! That thing is huge! I have never seen its like before yet the Lady Éowyn seems completely unperturbed. Now that it is closer and we could make out its form Lady Éowyn ordered us all to remain where we are. At the moment she's trying to explain to Kleo and Imrain that it is some kind of creature called an … Ent? I think that's what she called it. If my old teacher was correct I believe an Ent is some kind of walking, talking tree. Although I could be wrong. It is now 2 leagues away from us and I do not feel as confident in our safety as our Lady does.

**I**t certainly does not look happy to see us, nor does it seem to be halting its pace. Éowyn is determined to wait it out. However I do not plan to wait around. I am sorry for the way in which my writing has deteriorated greatly but I am busy repacking my pack. Thankfully Imrain is helping. The others have noticed our intent and are preparing to leave as well. 

**I**t is so close now we can make out the swaying of its leaves upon their branches. As much as I sense danger from this being it still entrances me and I must remain longer to record more… **I**t resembles one of the great Oaks, its bark dry and brittle on its branches and trunks. The dark leaves on its branches seem sinister, as though even they are angered or haunted by something beyond its control. Now it is barely metres from where we hide. Our Lady is moving towards it. Dear Eru! Someone help her! Éowyn, my lady…


	7. Chapter Six

**G**reetings Friends,

**I**t has been many hours since the Lady Éowyn foolishly risked her life by going up against the Ent. My heart felt as though it skipped into my throat as I watched, helplessly. I have never seen her more powerful, nor more radiantly beautiful. The sunlight, for which we have all craved dearly for over the past weeks, caught in the strands of her hair and glistened as of gold. She held her head high and proudly, our Lady did, as she moved to stand before the Ent.  
**P**acing restlessly he, for I now realise that he was of the male variety, dashed towards her only to have some invisible force check his movement and cause him to turn and walk away. Looking into his eyes I sensed a spirit greatly trouble and injured and yet I felt the overwhelming presence of the Dúfaroth. Even Captain Eithelfar seemed to sense it as he glanced nervously towards the dark forest behind us. None of us wished to return to the horror inside and yet the danger we felt in this Ent's company was tangible.

**I**, recklessly, have jumped to my feet upon seeing Our Lady conversing with this strange creature, my impulse to record this strange event taking precedence over what my mind considered to be natural sanity.  
"**T**ell me friend, it has been many years since I have seen your kind face. What ails you now?" Éowyn said softly, yet her voice holding a power that made the Ent pause in his stride and turn to face her. From behind I hear Imrain gasping faintly.

"Your face, it is one I remember. Hoom, yes. Yes it is. But your name is one I have forgotten. Must forget. Hoom Barum. Can never revisit the past. Death. Pain. Lost loved ones. Must forget it all." The slow, sonorous voice of the Ent seemed misplaced against the harsh appearance he bore. It seemed soothing, like a deep running river skipping over many rocks. Trickling quietly, gurgling to itself.  
"Indeed, and have your forgotten who you are? You seem hasty, for your kind, to leave those you love behind." Éowyn retorted, moving so that she stood before the Ent. The darkness around him seemed to be dissipating, and yet it still pulsed horribly as though it hated Our Lady for sending it away.  
"Leaving? They have left me, will leave me. Barum. Only sadness for old Ent now. What to live for? Hoom. Let me pass." He said desperately, seeming clumsy in his pain and slow behavior. Yet Éowyn did not back down, even as he pleaded wordlessly with her.  
"Old Ent indeed. My friend it is a sad day for me if you consider that I would leave you. I would not leave you…"  
"Please, do not speak my name. Hoom. It will make it harder"  
"If it is what will make you see sense, rid your soul of whatever is plaguing it so ruthlessly then I will."  
Branches wrap around the Ent as he slowly shakes his great head. A murmured No, No, No can be heard. Repeated endlessly, I know it is a sound I will hear for evermore.  
"Glingol"  
The Ent screeched loudly and the darkness that still remained as a shroud suddenly vanished completely. In the forest their came a deafening screech, as of many voices calling up in lament. Hands flew to ears to stifle the horrible sound yet it still managed to pierce through. And nothing could prevent the eyes from seeing a Dúfaroth, fleeing from where we stood into the forest behind.  
"I would thank you Lady, if there were anything left to me that would deem me to be thankful. Hoom. But I fear there is nothing." The Ent, Glingol, said softly as he placed a branch upon Éowyn's golden head. Her eyes closing, Éowyn let soft tears flow down her pale cheeks. Neither noticed the presence of Undew until he stood spoke.  
"To be sure of such things can bring them about Glingol. There still remains some dear to you, and one whom you thought had vanished from this world now lives. Return to your home, learn of what you can and go wither your heart would lead you. Listen to the song of your soul, it has traveled many lives and knows many things."  
Although none of us knew what he spoke of even the gruff Kleo seemed to take heart at his words for what they were worth. Drawing himself up to his full height the great oak Ent bowed stiffly to them all.  
"These words give me hope. Hoom Barum. And with hope comes great joy. I will be off now. Yes. Time to go home. Find those I love and who love me also. Goodbye to you all, may Yavanna bless you all."  
As quickly as he had come the Ent disappeared from view, leaving us to puzzle at this new mystery. The darkness we had seen around him had possessed him? Surely the Dúfaroth is not capable of such a monstrosity, and yet I would not put it past them. What are we to do if they possess those back home? What if they possess us? These are evil portents indeed.

**Y**ours in good faith,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	8. Chapter Seven

**G**reetings Friend,

**F**ind those I love and who love me also. The old Ent's words ring in my ears. Strange how something so simply seems to stay in your mind. It makes me think, who do I love? Then again, who loves me? I've no family, my work keeps me from making friends… even these people I fail to see in any light that could possibly resemble friendship. I don't know if this is my own fault, or if it's simply because of the situation we're in.  
**C**ertainly I've never felt more alone in my life; even the Lady Éowyn seems sad, tired even.  
"Where to from here?" The Captain asked roughly, his eyes fixed on Our Lady.  
"**W**e keep walking, simply keep walking. What else can we do? I fail to see any other alternative." Éowyn replied quietly, her pale hands warming over the fire. In this strange light we all appear tired, more so than we probably are. Imrain suffers the most its certain, when we halt she's instantly asleep and will not rouse until dawn breaks. Then she sets about performing her tasks, cooking, healing. Fréa has an injury that requires her intent concentration. Even still I fear she's not strong enough to handle it on her own.

**W**hat is to become of us? We do not know where we are, where we're headed or what the person we seek looks like. Why did we go on this foolish mission? It appears doomed to failure. I believe its already happened.

Yours,

Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Greetings Friend,**

**As I mentioned in previous entries we are each of us handling the situation in different ways. As yet I feel I haven't covered it enough, most assuredly the trials being faced by the individuals I share this journey with are of some import. Whether simply to family and friends or the greater picture I do not know.**  
I** know it may actually fail to interest anyone other than ourselves in any way but to be true to the tale I know it is required. Because she is handling it in a way that is a stark contrast to everyone else I thought beginning with the way Kleo is handling herself would be the more interesting… except that of ****Our Lady but I don't think her part in this is as important.  
Where this feeling is stemmed from is not clear to my mind and yet there is something there, something about her that will determine the fate of us all. The fate of all Ithilien. To match her appearance, Kleo's mood has darkened considerably and she has taken upon herself an almost lethal beauty… that of an enchantress who will kill mercilessly and without remorse. There is something in her eyes that speaks to me of a great trial she knows she must face, one that will test her will sorely. After the fear we have felt recently I embrace this tangible one in such a way as I thought impossible.  
**T**he warrior maiden's sleep has been a restless one, if she does sleep at all. Tonight she sits opposite the fire from me, her eyes trained on the flickering flames. In this wholesome light the flames are reflected in her dark eyes, bringing to them light but distorting it so that it appears cold. I wish I knew what this maiden was thinking, rarely am I faced with such a dilemma. I would speak with Éowyn but I know that Our Lady has a greater weight on her mind than mine and it would not do to worry her needlessly. Undew will hear nothing from me, his coldness and aloof behaviour towards myself are becoming increasingly worrying. But tonight that is not important, I feel a strangeness on the breeze. **A**s I glanced up from my writing I was surprised to notice Kleo had sensed it also.  
While I sit here writing she has moved to where she can see past the rocky outcrop behind which we are huddled from the battering wind. In the liquid black that surrounds our camp I see nothing, hear nothing and yet… as does Kleo I sense something. Sending me back a glance, Kleo indicates for me to join her. Already she has slipped into the inky blackness, none have noticed she has left. As soon as I dig up my cloak I intend to follow her… I need to know what is out there.**

**Yours in good faith**

**Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.**


	10. Chapter Nine

**Greetings Friend,**

**Strange events have passed during the hours before sunrise. As we sit here now Arien is only just peeking over the horizon on her golden chariot. But I am not here to talk of such things. There was indeed something stalking through the night. Someone. Kleo and I slipped away unnoticed, although I do not know if that had something to do with the soft song Our Lady had been singing; I still unsure if she had truly winked at me as I left.**

**Still, it was a relief to be away from the heavy presence of Undew and the Captain. Both had grown sullen over the past few weeks and complained bitterly about anything and everything. To not hear the murmured arguments was a blessing in itself. I had not realized how selfish our Captain was and how domineering Undew could me. If I had the right to say such things I would tell how much it sickens me, but that is opinionated and not factual.**

**Walking through the darkened plain it took me a great deal of time to adjust my eyes to the change in light. Even though the fire had given little light and warmth I missed its cheeriness already, the comforting homey feeling. Kleo however was taking it all in her stride, quite literally. The girl is capable of moving at an alarming rate when she chooses… and at that point in time she was in an exceptional hurry. Hurry to death? I feel that is what she moved so quickly towards even if its embrace hasn't wrapped around her; yet.**

**But the fact she was so certain that what she was to meet this night would bring about death startled me. Still in fact. Considering what we did meet was as unassuming as myself.**

**After a long time of walking, Kleo had dragged me behind a rocky outcrop so that I was wedged safely behind her and only her front was exposed. Before her she held out her blade, even in this still darkness it glinted softly. In what was surely a few moments, but felt like eternity, another blade appeared. This one rested lightly against Kleo's neck.**

**A voice shattered the silence, rustic and yet with the velvety tone of a woman.**

"**You seek the Old One do you not?"**

**Before Kleo could speak I'm ashamed to say I blurted it out, I was excited to hear of someone who might know of what we seek.**

"**Yes, do you know where we might find him?"**

"**He is here, with me now. And yet you may not speak with him… Mandos forbids it."**

**Until now I have only just realized she sounded saddened, and yet as Our Lady speaks with her she will bare neither little of her tale nor why she will not speak of him anymore.**

However; back in the rocky outcrop, before we had returned with the maiden, Kleo was far from impressed. If the way she looked at the woman could have pierced the night I am certain she could have killed her. Despite people's firm belief that looks cannot in fact kill.

"**Indeed? Then is Mandos in league with the Dúfaroth? For surely such a creature causes devastation. Are his halls so empty that he must call upon shadows to deliver souls to him?"**

The anger in her voice was barely hidden, and both she and I know that it was intended that way. Kleo did not want her disgust to be buried beneath 'protocol' as the Captain called it. Were she upset at something she was always first to speak her mind.

"**No dear one, Mandos is grieved as much as you are yet he will not allow the Old One to speak with you."**

**Where the sentiment come from I do not know, for Kleo denies having ever seen the maiden before… it is only with her that she will use such an endearment. I would dearly love to know why, even if it were to satisfy my professional curiosity.**

**Now, back at camp Kleo is under Imrain's watchful care. The maiden's blade had indeed cut through her throat, albeit it barely, but enough. Just enough to leave a scar for the rest of her life. As a Testament to something though I do not know what. The maiden, as I have said was speaking with Our Lady, now Fréa has joined them. He seems greatly interested in her tale. One that I know is my duty to record now that she has been thrown upon our path. Fate perhaps? All I know is that in her presence I feel uncomfortable, as though she carries a secret in her mind that would fell even one with the strongest will. There is something uncanny about her, unsettling. That Mandos would speak with her only serves to make this feeling stronger.**

**Yours in good faith**

**M**alachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	11. Chapter Ten

Greetings Friend,

**She still will not speak of who she is and why she knows of the Old One as she has taken to calling him. Even her name cannot be drawn from her. It is strange, that one who so willingly places her life in the care of others, strangers even, does not have the trust within her to give a name to call her by. She knows much of our troubles, whether by what Lady Éowyn speaks of or some strange means of communication that I cannot fathom. Sometimes it feels as though she is reading our minds…**

**Certainly she knows things we would not wish her to, we do not want the general public knowing of the sad state of affairs in Ithilien lest they are alarmed by it. And yet here she is, a mere maiden of no particular worth, knowing things that surely should never have left the chambers of Lord Faramir! Her explicit detail in describing what befell Handol and the way in which she described the Ent's ailment so well are alarming to the extent I feel she is not to be trusted. Kleo it seems is of the same belief and will not converse with her. Period.**

**However there is one peculiarity still to be discussed. Fréa, sweet and bumbling Fréa, has struck up an astonishing companionship with the strange maiden. He does not speak and she recites to him strange poems, limericks and tales of days gone by. Of the Elves and the Númenoreans. Morgoth and Sauron. The Valar and the Maia. None are left and all are treated with the same accord. By night she sings to him of Elbereth Gilthoniel; enticing Healer Imrain into verse and song that brings joy to our hearts. A fleeting one that is replaced, only moments later, by a feeling of overwhelming grief.**

**By day her tales of grim battle and breathtaking love and passion serenade him so that it is obvious for all to see that he desires such a life. Little does he know that such bravery, chivalry and honor are legends of past Ages and never to be revisited. They cannot, where is there left to perform such heroics? Assuredly not in Mordor, where soldiers toil and sweat daily to return it to a beautiful and bountiful paradise. Ithilien itself? Perhaps, yet we do not have a way to fight these creatures. It is a hopeless cause to chase dreams of heroism. But it lifts the spirits of Fréa, even to some extent Eithelfar and Undew.**

**If she would but tell us her name! I cannot see what purpose it serves for her to keep it from us, there is little she can offer apart from companionship and bardship. We have yet to witness her wield her blade against foe, striking at someone when they are cornered does not count according to Kleo… which she voices frequently. Simply put. She is useless to us unless she can prove otherwise. So why is she still with us? Why do Fréa and the Lady Éowyn value her so highly? Surely this is another riddle put upon our path to delay our return… but is it the Valar Mandos' doing? Is this his plan? Ithilien does not amount to much the tapestries of Vairë, the Weaver. Does he truly wish to wipe us from it?**

**Yours in troubled mind,**

**M**alachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Greetings Friend,**

**Fréa had a break through earlier this morning. The maiden has told him how she knows of the Old One. It is an astonishing tale to be certain. One that reveals more about her than she would have liked to have revealed perhaps. Time will tell. Maybe she desired it to be that way. Below is recounting, spoken exactly as she herself told me. Fréa's words would have confused even the most scholarly scholar I am afraid.**

"**My childhood is one that does not concern you; even I could speak of it. All that you are interested in, and that I am willing to tell you, is in regards to Eli (pronounced Ee-lie for future readers reference). Eli is indeed the Old One. I had traveled to Rivendell during the time of the War of Therion… even as the huge army FAME was passing through that hallowed place. Lord Elrond gave me shelter and food, thinking I was one of the army. This I will admit, although a subvert way of gaining access, was effective in its simplicity.**

**I remained there after the army had departed, after learning much of the world. You must realize there was little I knew before this, and if I did know I had forgotten it. Along with everything else… But that is not important. I learnt much of the bardship you have seen of me from the elves until it was brought to Elrond's attention that I still lived under his care. I was brought before him, unsure of myself and not willing to look upon him. After a long interview with his Lordship he entrusted me with the task of taking a message to Thranduil; King of Eryn Lasgalen. The message asked of the King's aid in fighting off an increasing number of troll attacks upon the pass into Imladris. He made it quite clear that he had given me this task because he felt it too dangerous for his own soldiers. I was a stowaway, someone who had lived quite fruitfully off another's fare and was now to pay the price. I do not think he intended for that price to be so high.**

**I reached the borders of Eryn Lasgalen safely enough, only twice did I encounter a hostile creature. Both times it was down to luck that I escaped with my life and body intact. Upon entering Eryn Lasgalen however that all changed. As soon as I passed the perimeter I felt a presence, one that followed me constantly through over the subsequent days. On the fifth day of travel, without any of Lord Elrond's fare left on my possession to sustain me, that I met it. A Dúfaroth I believe you call them. To me they are merely scum.**

**This Dúfaroth spoke condescendingly of my mother, who I do not have the fortune of knowing, calling her weak and a fool for valuing love over power. All my life I had desired power and yet now, knowing what power I was being offered I felt myself bereft of it all. I knew no love, nor did I wish for such a dark power. I felt my life futile. It was then that the creature strike.**

**In moment's I found my consciousness discarded to the darkest recesses of my mind as the Dúfaroth swiftly took over my body. Here I was left to dwell on all the misfortunes I had caused others during my lifetime. Disgust was rife within my heart. I hated myself with a passion… despised what I had become. The Dúfaroth fed on this hatred and grew all the more powerful for it. Before I had time to realize what my actions were causing Eryn Lasgalen had returned to its former state; Mirkwood. The forest was wrapped in darkness as more and more Dúfaroth descended upon the forest. Frightening the woodfolk so badly that many were forced to leave or seek shelter in King Thranduil's woodland castle.**

**The havoc they wrecked on the land during those days is unfathomable to someone who has not experienced it for what they done was on such a large scale that it should have been deemed impossible. For a mortal at any rate.**

**Needless to say the message calling for aid never reached the King's ears until Elrond's plight was realized by Gwaihir; Lord of Eagles. Both Lord Elrond and the King swore to rid Middle Earth of me, neither knowing what fate had befallen me.**

**Yet something was still in my favor. The Dúfaroth that had possessed my body had made himself an enemy many years before. This enemy was the only Human to have ever seen a Dúfaroth before me, very few Elves and Dwarves had seen one either. To a Hobbit they were simply an old wive's tale, to be disregarded as folly. This particular human had been blinded by the Dúfaroth when he had thought the human weak enough to take control of. The human was to strong and fought bravely against the Dúfaroth and his compatriots. He killed three other Dúfaroth before this particular Dúfaroth and one other turned tail and fled. The fight had left the human blind.**

**This human's name was Eli.**

**When he had heard his enemy was in Eryn Lasgalen he hastened there with all speed, relying heavily in his other senses that had become more pronounced to accommodate his lack of sight. When he reached Thranduil's residence he begged for the King's aid in banishing the Dúfaroth from me so that he could kill it without causing me injury. It took many, long hours before he was convinced. Together with Lord Elrond he spoke words of dispelling to remove the Dúfaroth, although they had the benefit of magic that the Lady Éowyn did not when she released the Ent from his prison.**

**Eli dispatched of the Dúfaroth swiftly and rode through the forests on a great white steed, slaying as many as he could before the remainder fled. To Ithilien I presume… from what I've heard this is where the majority of them are situated. It was not a mere blade that could kill the Dúfaroth however, and this is why your attempts thus far have failed. This blade…**

**Here she produced a sword from her side and displayed it proudly**

"…** is tipped with Mithril. The only thing that the Dúfaroth fear most in the world. When they were first awakened in the Mines of Moria, during the time the Balrog was released by the dwarves, the first light they witnessed was that shining from the Mithril. Being a substance of darkness and shadow this not only horrified them but effectively killed those closest. Over time they built up a resistance to the light of Mithril and other forms of light and it is only when they are pierced by a blade with Mithril on its tip that they are harmed. In most cases this is fatal; there are very few who are resistant even to this.**

**Eli called this blade Doldagnir and it was his pride and joy. Before Mandos forbid him to speak with another soul again he passed on to me all the knowledge he knew of the Dúfaroth so that I might continue his work. During our final meeting he gave me this sword so that I may keep my promise. But also to remember him by… he was the only family I have ever known. Even if it were but briefly.**

**You see me here now, none the wiser and yet with more knowledge of the world than perhaps I should have. Indeed many things have been made known to me that perhaps should have been passed on to another. But who am I to disagree with Vairë? It is she who weaves the histories of Middle Earth. I will leave my fate in her hands, for unlike others of our race I do not have a destiny to call my own. I sold that long ago…**

**She cut off her dialogue here and would not talk again. But we know how to deliver death to the Dúfaroth now. She had a purpose after all. Lady Éowyn has decreed that she shall join us for the rest of our journey. Imrain has suggested we travel to Khazad Dum; to beg the aid of the Dwarven King.**

**Yours in good faith,**

**M**alachi, Scribe of Ithilien.


End file.
